


The Good Old Days Were Mostly Bad

by Chash



Series: The Morning Seems Impossible [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Season/Series 04 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 01:43:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11117259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: Dreams are worse than nightmares for Bellamy, on the Ark. And after six years, even being awake is pretty bad.But they're going home.





	The Good Old Days Were Mostly Bad

**Author's Note:**

> This is a lot less introspection and shit than in Monty's part, and a lot more, uh, porn. Good job, team.

Bellamy learns quickly that the dreams are worse than the nightmares.

The nightmares are awful, of course: he dreams of getting to earth and opening the bunker to find it full of the dead, like when he and Clarke and Jaha went scouting. He dreams of the bunker opening too soon, of Octavia going out into a world that isn't ready for her, of her wasting away, radiation seeping into her skin.

He dreams a thousand ways Clarke could have died. Sometimes, it's the wave itself that kills her, sometimes the radiation. Sometimes he dreams of her surviving both and then starving to death, wasting away as she stares up at the sky.

In his dreams, though--in his dreams, she's alive, and that's even worse. In his dreams, she's smiling at him, bumping her shoulder against his, teasing him about leadership and resources. It's not even _realistic_ , how easy his dreams feel. They never got to be so happy. His brain made up how that smile would look on her face, and he's never going to _know_.

And then, even worse, he starts _forgetting_ what she looked like. He knows the broad strokes, of course, her hair color, her eye color, the shape of her face. The outline of her. He'd know her if he saw her again, but he won't.

They have eight-hundred-four days left before the Earth is survivable again when Murphy and Emori come to see him at the algae farm.

"For the record," Murphy says, "I was against this."

"You weren't _against it_ ," says Emori. "You were concerned."

"Yeah, I like my thing better." He crosses his arms over his chest, watching Bellamy. "We found something."

He straightens up instantly, tension racing up his back. They've been checking out the parts of the Ark that they aren't currently using, looking for parts for Raven, and they could have found all sorts of terrible stuff there. All sorts of things that could be real problems.

"Fuck, you're so paranoid," says Murphy. "Here."

"We found it in the infirmary," Emori adds.

Bellamy stares at the piece of paper in his hand, a lump forming in his throat. It's not a photograph, but it's almost better. It's a drawing, done in Clarke's own instantly recognizable hand. He assumes Abby was the one to write the label at the bottom: _Clarke, self-portrait, age 16_. Even at sixteen, he can recognize his Clarke in her. She's younger and lighter, but--it's her.

He has to swallow a few times before he can respond. "Yeah," he finally says, although no one asked a question. "This is--thanks."

"I told you'd he'd like it," he hears Emori tell Murphy as they leave, and it's not really exactly right, honestly. _Like_ feels like such a simple word, given how his stomach is twisting itself up in knots.

But he smooths the wrinkles out of it and stares at it for the rest of the day, brings it back to the room where he's been living. It feels morbid and a little uncomfortable to actually hang it, so he puts it in a drawer for safekeeping.

It's not as if he needs to see it every day. But he likes to have it around, for when he wakes up from a dream or a nightmare. He likes to have it to glance at sometimes, to remind himself. 

It's the only proof he has she ever really existed.

*

When the countdown hits zero and they're still in the Ark, he keeps counting their total days, but he adds a new count too, the days they're overdue. This is the first day his sister will think he's dead, and the second, and the third. This is the tenth, the twentieth, the hundredth. Every day is a day Octavia will think he's left her, a day Miller will think they all died in some tin can.

A day Abby Griffin will think her daughter is gone, but she'll actually be right. Even if they make it down, he'll have bad news to deliver. The good news will outweigh the bad, he hopes. Seven alive, one dead.

But he's always been the one to count his dead; Clarke would remind him of the living.

It's his job to do both now.

"We can't fix the comms?" he asks Raven, on the hundred-fiftieth day of survivable Earth. "Try to let them know we're alive up here?"

"Same choice we've always had," she says. He doesn't think she'd sleep, if the rest of them didn't remind her. "We can try to fix the comms, or we can try to fix the ship. I say if we want to tell them we're alive, we should do it in person."

He sighs. "I know. But--fuck, if it was me down there--"

"If it was you down there, you'd get it once we got down."

"That doesn't mean I'd like it," he grumbles, and he hears her soft snort of laughter.

"Sorry, were we supposed to get a good option here? I just saw shit all the way down."

 _Only choice_ he thinks. But he says, "Fuck, I don't even know why I talk to you. You need anything?"

"Parts, same as always. And time." She pauses. "I'm going to get us down, okay? It's going to happen."

"I know," he says. "I know."

*

He doesn't exactly give up hope, because he's not sure _hope_ is what he had in the first place. He's never felt like the hopeful one; his whole life, it feels as if he's been waiting for the other shoe to drop. For someone to find Octavia, for the Ark to come down and find out what he did, for every single fucking thing to go wrong, and now basically every one has. Every secret he's tried to keep, every person he's tried to protect, it's all out in the open.

He's done everything he can, and now he's waiting for something out of his control, something impossible that may never come.

He could die up here, and he starts thinking about that. About what he'd like the rest of his life to look like, if this is it.

He sits with the algae and thinks about how there could be more of it. He could grow more, if they prioritized making the room. He's gotten good with it. They could have kids, maybe. Emori and Murphy certainly could. No one else is currently attached, but attachment isn't a requirement for reproduction. He could father a child, if anyone was willing to carry it. He's not sure Raven or Echo would, but Harper might. And if they really have to _live_ up here, Raven and Echo could probably be persuaded.

He's just not convinced that they want to live here. He's not convinced that they'd be better off trying to survive, trying to make this a home. 

If it's his call, he'll spend the rest of his life trying to get to Earth. He knows what years of rationing and dreaming of the ground looks like, and he doesn't want that again. He'd rather die in the atmosphere.

So when Raven says, "Okay, this is it," all he says is, "When can we leave?"

Raven side-eyes him. "That's it? When can we leave?"

"What else am I supposed to say?"

"Some Bellamy shit," she says, and he snorts. "You don't want to do one last check?"

"Two thousand, two hundred and fifteen days." It feels like lifetimes, like geological ages. It feels endless, and he can't imagine a single day more, now that Raven says they can go. "We're _late_ , Raven," he adds, when she still looks dubious.

"Better late than dead," she shoots back.

He can't really say he's not sure about that, not without starting another conversation. But Raven believes it, and that's enough for him. And even if he didn't believe it, he'd go, at this point. 

But he trusts her, so he says, "Yeah. So if you say it's ready, it's ready. Let's do this."

It's not nearly that quick, of course. Once they're strapped in, Raven has a thousand more tests to run and rerun. He gets it, he does; if they're going to do this, they only get one chance.

But he wants it to be _over_. He doesn't care much about the conclusion.

And he goes on believing that, even as he's getting ready to open the door. It's staggering to just think about opening it again, so he can't care that much about what's going to be on the other side. It's not that he doesn't know what he'll see, because that he knows. He believes the world is inhabitable, and they should have landed in a green place.

He knows what he's going to see, but he doesn't know what's going to be down here. He doesn't know what he's going to do, and he doesn't _care_ , because anything is better than where he came from.

So it's fine. Once he knows what the present looks like, he can figure out the future. All he needs is to be sure.

"If the air's toxic, it was nice knowing you guys," he says, and hits the latch to open the door.

He tells himself that's why he sees her. It's an echo of what he told her the first time, not the same, but similar. Not that she's never far from his mind. And the air _could_ be toxic. He's seeing visions at the first breath of Earth, and death can't be far behind.

His brain thinks that, but his body hasn't caught up. His knees buckle and nearly go out, and his eyes are roving over her. There's red in hair. She's too thin. Her eyes are wide and so fucking blue.

She is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen in his entire life, and she can't be _real_ , but he's already straightening, jumping, running, and she's already grinning, casting her gun aside so she can throw herself into his arms, and she's so fucking _solid_. 

Nothing like a dream at all.

"Bellamy," she says, her breath warm against his neck, and he holds on so tight he's sure he must be hurting her, but all she does is try to get closer. Her hair smells bright and fresh, different from before, and he can feel the thinness on her frame, and she's--

"Fuck," he breathes. "Clarke, I thought--I thought--"

"I know." Her lips press against his shoulder. "I know. I tried to radio." He winces, and she kisses him again, a little higher, skin instead of cloth this time. "You're _here_ ," she says, and he feels his grip tighten, as impossible as it seems.

"So are you. How did you--"

He can hear the murmur of conversation around them, and becomes slowly aware of an unknown voice. Clarke must become notice it too, because she slides out of his embrace. He can't quite make his arms comply, not until she leans her head on his chest, makes it clear that whatever else she's doing, she's not going far.

"She's a nightblood," she says, in response to a question he didn't hear. He follows her gaze to Monty and Harper, standing with a small, pale girl. Her eyes are bright on him, almost defiant, and his hand twitches on Clarke's waist.

So she wasn't alone. That's something.

"Her name is Madi," Clarke adds.

"So it worked?" Bellamy asks. His voice sounds almost normal. If he wasn't still crying a little, he might manage to seem completely unaffected. 

And if he could let go of her.

Her smile is fond and a little patronizing, and he feels like he's choking on happiness. "Obviously it worked."

"What about the bunker?" he asks, and his heart plummets when her smile falters. Of course, the bunker must have a problem. They must not have survived. They can't have _all_ made it. He can get Clarke, but he can't--

"We're digging them out now," she says, and it's more than he expected. "It's--I've got a lot to tell you."

Oddly, it makes him feel better. He has almost no news from the last six years: they were in the Ark, working all the time to be able to come home. He thinks he lost his mind, a little, a few times, but it came back, because he wasn't alone, and no one was going to give up on him.

And Clarke wasn't alone either. She had Madi. She had _something_. She got to see the Earth grow back; of course she has stories.

"When are the rest of us getting a hug?" Raven asks, before he can respond, and Clarke laughs, gives him one final squeeze around the waist before she disentangles herself. 

Given he spent six years without her, and most of the year before that not touching her, it shouldn't feel as awful as it does, to let her go. It shouldn't feel like his side was ripped open. But these things never really make sense.

He watches her for a second, still not believing it, but he doesn't let himself linger too long starting.

He has something else to do.

He goes over to the girl, Madi. She hasn't been watching him this whole time, but her eyes keep darting back to him, hooded and wary, and he can't really blame her. Clarke might be hugging everyone, but she was clinging to him. He's different.

"Hi," he says.

"Hi," says Madi. He'd put her at ten or eleven, maybe a little older. He wonders how long it was before Clarke found her, how long she had to be alone.

"I'm Bellamy, but I guess someone told you that already."

"Yeah." She looks a little wary when he offers his hand, but takes it. "You're late," she adds. "Clarke was starting to--"

"I know," he says, eyes flicking to her. She's moving from Harper to Monty on her reunion tour. "There was a problem with our ship. We needed time to make sure we'd make it down here safely. We weren't taking any risks."

"She missed you," says Madi, accusatory, and Bellamy swallows, meets Clarke's eye over the girl's head.

"I know." It's not really a lie, because he knows _now_. "I missed her too," he adds, and that's even more true.

*

"They came down two weeks ago," Clarke is telling him, low. He's trying to pay attention, and he mostly is, but his eye keeps catching on her. He can't stop looking, but every time she looks up at him, she beams, so he doesn't feel as if he's alone in this. "They were in some kind of suspended sleep, trying to get through the worst of the radiation. Criminals," she adds, with a small smile. "Luckily I'm used to those."

He catches her fingers and squeezes, quick and firm, just for a second, as much for himself as for her. He can't stop touching her, just to feel sure.

His dreams never felt this real.

"It's okay," she says, soft. "They're fine, now that you're here."

"Backup?" She catches her lip in her teeth, and he drifts closer again, pressing his shoulder against hers for support. "Clarke," he says, and she nods.

"I thought it was _you_ , Bellamy. When they came down. I thought you were finally back."

His _oh_ is less a word than a breath. Of course she thought that. Of course. She thought they were finally coming down, and instead she got a group of strangers. Useful strangers, apparently, ones with mining equipment who are helping them dig out the bunker, but--strangers.

"I'm sorry," he says.

It's her turn to squeeze his fingers. "It's not your fault. I know you came down as soon as you could."

"We couldn't get down fast enough," he admits. "I thought O would be going out of her mind."

"Not as far as I know," says Clarke. Her voice is too light. "Just me."

"You seem pretty good now."

"You're here now," she says. "And even if--the other ship _did_ help. We should have the bunker uncleared in a few days, and that was something."

"When it rains, it pours," he mutters, and she smiles.

Their conversation lags just in time to hear Madi and Raven talking about lessons, and Bellamy smiles at the familiar petulance of, "I'm going to have a lot more lessons now, aren't I?"

Clarke doesn't even look at her. "You are. It's good for you," she adds, and Bellamy grins at her.

"This is exactly the kind of mom I thought you'd be."

She bumps him with her hip. "Shut up."

He lets his voice go low. "How did you find her?"

"Scavenging for food. She didn't know she was a nightblood, just that she was alive. I assumed, but--I wasn't going to ask a scared five-year-old if I could cut her arm open, so I had to wait until she trusted me. But we were the last two people on Earth, so it didn't take long."

"And you found her before you totally lost it."

She smiles a little, but it's not quite there. "I had other ways to cope."

"Yeah?"

He can see her throat bob on a swallow. "I talked to you."

"To us?"

"To _you_. I'd call you every morning, to see if the radio was working yet."

His tongue feels like lead in his mouth, so he's glad that Raven is the one who says, "I decided it wasn't a priority. Fixing the comms. Figured we'd rather get down here faster than be able to tell people how we weren't down yet." She pauses. "I didn't think you were--"

"I know," says Clarke. "I didn't know if I'd make it either."

Bellamy gives up, lets himself reach over and take her hand in his, holding tight. The angle is a little awkward, but--he can't just let her go.

"You did," he says, and she smiles.

"I did." She pulls her hand out of his, but just to change her grip, switch the positioning of her arms. It feels a lot more natural. "That's how it works, when you're taller than I am," she teases, and he squeezes her fingers.

"Thanks. So, tell me about the prisoners. What should I be expecting?"

She shakes her head, smiling, and leans into him. "Nothing we can't handle," she says.

For the first time in six years, he believes it.

*

When Clarke asks if he'll come help her put Madi to sleep, he thinks about saying no. It feels as if he's imposing, at least tonight. Madi's surely had enough of strangers, and he feels like she should have some privacy with Clarke, some time to be away from these overwhelming newcomers.

But Madi says, "Please?" and his heart lodges itself in his throat.

"Yeah?" he asks.

"Clarke said when you came down, you'd tell me more stories."

He glances at Clarke, and she shrugs. "I tried to tell her a Greek myth, but I didn't remember it well enough to do it justice. So I said you'd handle those."

He has to swallow to make his voice work. "I can do that, yeah."

Madi tucks herself into a strange little nest in the back of the rover, and Clarke pushes Bellamy in first so he'll be next to her. She follows him, leaning into his side, and he wonders how it can possibly feel like this. How after six years away, six years of being _sure_ she was dead, she can just slot right in against him like she was never gone. 

How part of him can already love Madi, this girl he barely knows, because _Clarke_ loves her. Because he's--

"Okay," he says, wetting his lips. "Which one did you try to tell her?"

"Orpheus and Eurydice."

He gives her a look. "You were going to start there?"

"What?"

"She doesn't have any _background_ , Clarke. Does she even know who Hades is? Who the muses are? You need those for the rest of the story to make sense."

Clarke laughs, soft. "This is why I was waiting for you. So you can do it right."

"Who's Hades?" Madi asks.

"See?" He smiles at her. "He's one of the gods. We'll get to him. But we should start at the beginning."

"The beginning?" Clarke asks.

"The myth of creation," he says. "Every religion has one." Madi is looking up at him, reminding him a little of Octavia but mostly feeling like someone new. Someone already precious. "So--" He clears his throat. "In the beginning, there was night."

Madi falls asleep around when he's talking about the twelve Olympians, and Bellamy lets himself pull the covers up and stroke her hair back, lets himself just watch her for a long minute.

"She's a good kid," he tells Clarke. "You did a good job."

"She was a good kid when I found her. I didn't have to do much," she says, and he shakes his head.

"Six years, Clarke. Six years, just the two of you. I _know_ how hard that is. Take the compliment."

She smiles, burrows into his side for a long second. It's a little overwhelming, just how much _she_ wants to touch _him_. It makes sense, of course; he thought she was dead for six years, but she spent the whole time missing him, waiting for him to come back.

Now that he is, she seems to know exactly what she wants.

They spend an hour or so sitting outside with everyone else, passing moonshine around a campfire. Clarke half falls asleep on him, and he rouses her while Echo puts out the fire.

"Come on, you have a shitty rover to sleep in."

"My rover is great," she grumbles.

"Uh huh." He glances at Raven. "Where are we sleeping?"

"Not sure. I assume Clarke doesn't have room for all of us, just you."

Clarke flushes. "Sorry, yeah."

"It's cool. We can sleep in the ship tonight, figure out something better tomorrow. Make some tents or something."

"I can--" he starts, feeling guilty when he can't finish. He didn't mean to leave them, but he doesn't want to leave Clarke either. And Clarke can't leave Madi.

And, honestly, he just doesn't want to offer to go back with them. Not when he could be with her instead.

"We'll survive a night without you," says Murphy. "I'm sick of you anyway."

"Asshole." He offers them a smile. "Sleep well, guys."

Clarke twines their fingers together as they walk back, and something in his gut churns. They're going back to _Madi_. He doesn't really think anything's going to happen.

But she tugs him onto the hood, not into the back. "I usually sleep here."

"Fuck, why?"

"Language," she chides. He stretches out against the windshield and she curls around him. "I thought I'd have a better chance of waking up. If you guys came down."

His arms tighten around her. "I'm so sorry. I wish I'd--I wish I knew you were down here. I would have--"

"Would have what?" she teases. "I know you were already trying to get down."

"I would have fixed the radio. I would have fucking done it myself."

"You would have driven Raven crazy if you tried to help with the ship."

"Yeah. But--" He exhales. "I'm not going to say it was harder, thinking you were dead. But it sucked, okay? I thought I was never going to see you again. That I was going to die without--"

When his voice dies, she props herself up on his chest, looking down at him. She looks unreal, lit only by moonlight, and part of him still thinks she must be. This can't possibly be Clarke. He must be dreaming.

"Without?" she prompts.

He strokes her hair back from her temple, like he did over two-thousand days ago, like he did in another lifetime, and she leans into it, without hesitation. 

It feels like it should be so much harder, to be sure now. Six years ago, he would have said he loved her, but he wouldn't have thought she felt the same. And after so long, he shouldn't _still_ love her, because they have this gulf of time and space between them.

But he spent six years wishing every fucking day that he could see her again, and she spent six years calling him every morning with no answer.

So all he has to say is, "Clarke," and she smiles, and he lets himself lean up and kiss her.

The last time he kissed someone, it was Bree, when they were dancing. It was a good kiss, as kisses went, a little stupid and sloppy, but fun too. Uncomplicated.

This kiss is _hot_. He wasn't planning it like that, but as soon as his mouth hits hers, all he wants is to be closer, and she responds in kind, fingers tangling in his hair, mouth opening for him.

"Clarke," he says again, between kisses. " _Clarke_ , fuck, I--"

"Yeah," she says, nipping his bottom lip. "I know."

She's half on top of him, which is nice, but he really wants her on her back, spread out for him, naked and panting and perfect, and it feels possible, except that the hood of a car that a kid is sleeping in really isn't the place for that.

"Can we go somewhere else?" he asks, nuzzling her neck and nipping her shoulder. "Somewhere I'm not afraid we're going to roll off?"

Her laugh is clear and bright and happy, the most perfect sound he's ever heard. "Like the grass?" she suggests.

"I know you have blankets," he says, kissing her again. "So we don't get grass anywhere weird."

She brushes her nose against his, still smiling. "Fine, I'll get a blanket. But if I wake up Madi, you're telling her why we need it."

"Because we're cold, duh" he says, and she laughs again.

"I forgot you were good at this," she says, and he watches her go, whole body tingling with excitement. 

Yesterday, he thought Clarke was dead, and today he's going to sleep with her. In probably every sense of the term.

She comes back with an unfamiliar blanket, something thick and warm and soft, and they spread it out on the grass a good few yards from the rover and then pause, suddenly awkward. Getting overcome with passion is easy, but recovering after the passion turns practical can be weird.

But it's not like he doesn't want this, when he's thinking straight, so he slides his arms around her again. "We can just sleep," he offers, in case she's changed her mind. "I just--I want to be close to you."

It's such a simple confession, shouldn't feel earth-shattering, but he's spent so long wanting to be with her and not being able to. Even before he thought she was dead, some days it felt like the whole world was conspiring to drag him away from her, like he had to let it, because they always had more important things to do than be together.

After six years, he's tired of that. The world can arrange itself around them, for a change. 

Clarke smiles and leans up, pressing her mouth against his again. "I've been dreaming about this," she murmurs, and he smiles a little.

"Me too."

Even without his saying it, she understands. She tugs him down onto the blanket, pushes him back and settles comfortably on top of him.

"I'm here," she says. "I'm real." A moment of hesitation, but just a moment, and then she's kissing him again. "I'm yours, Bellamy."

"Yeah," he breathes, and the kiss turns wet and hot and desperate again, because she _is_. She's his, and she's not going anywhere.

"And I haven't gotten laid in six years," she adds, and that makes him laugh.

"Join the club."

For some reason, she falters. "No?"

"Why would I have gotten laid?"

"Honestly, I figured you guys would get bored." She swallows. "I couldn't stop thinking about you coming back, and--I don't know. Six years is such a long time. You and Murphy could have gotten married for all I knew."

"Yeah, that was really tempting." He cups her jaw. "I thought about it. Not marrying Murphy, but--what I'd do. If we needed to repopulate the world or something. But I wasn't there yet. I just wanted to survive and get back."

"Good." She brushes her lips against his. "Not--I didn't want you to be miserable the whole time. But you thought I was dead and I thought you might--"

"I know." He nudges her, and she obligingly slides off him so he can be on top of her instead, taking in the sight of her all laid out under him, perfect in the moonlight. "So, you want to get laid?" he teases.

She tugs at the hem of his shirt. "If you're not too busy."

He tosses the shirt aside and leans down for another kiss as her hands skate up his chest. Her fingers are rougher than they used to be, calloused all over, and he's never felt anything better.

"What do you want?" he asks.

One of her legs slides over his, guiding his thigh between hers. "Everything."

"Not helpful," he says, but he tugs on her shirt and she leans up so he can pull it off, and gets rid of her bra while she's at it. Which is honestly all the guidance he really needs, because it's been a _long_ time, and she's gorgeous, her smooth skin pebbling a little in the cold, her nipples going hard. He presses kisses to her jaw, her neck, her sternum, lets his left hand go to one breast and his mouth go to the other, has to grind down against her leg at the sound she makes, a soft, perfect moan.

He swirls his tongue, reveling in every gasp and cry, listening to pick apart what she likes best. She seems to like _everything_ , is so responsive and eager that he's already going desperate with it. 

Once his clothing gets too restrictive, he forces himself to pull back. Clarke's eyes are dark and there are already red marks darkening on on her breasts from his mouth, and it takes a real effort to keep from kissing her again before he can get his clothes off.

Her gaze drops immediately to his hand on the button of his pants, though, and that helps. He pushes them off slowly, taking his underwear with them, and she swears under her breath and pushes him onto his back so she can look at him too.

"Fuck, Bellamy."

"That's the next step, yeah." He flicks her belt loop. "Your turn."

She complies quickly, and then she's on top of him again, pressing down against his thigh, already so wet and eager. He takes her mouth for a messy kiss, tangling his hand in her hair, and he wouldn't exactly say it was worth waiting six years for this, but he's so fucking glad he gets it _now_.

"I missed you," he breathes, pressing his mouth under her jaw. "Fuck, Clarke. I missed you so much."

"Yeah," she says. "Me too." She shifts, deliberate, sliding closer to his dick. "Can I--"

"Already?" he asks.

"Was six years not long enough for you?" she teases, but when his fingers find her clit, she moans and drops her forehead onto his shoulder. "Bellamy--"

"I'm going to fuck you," he says, voice rough. "But I want to do a lot of other things to you first."

"Oh," she breathes, and he tugs her up. It takes a second for her to figure it out, but once she does, she laughs, settles herself over his mouth. He can smell her arousal already, can already guess how she'll taste when she reaches his mouth. But he didn't know how she'd sound, the way her voice dies in her throat as his tongue slides inside her.

By the time she comes for the first time, she's riding his face hard and fast, gasping his name, and he'd honestly keep going, but she rolls off before he can. 

So he follows her, reclaiming her mouth as he slides two fingers inside her, swallowing her moans. She's so wet around his fingers that he almost can't believe it, it's so good, and he breaks away from the kiss so he can murmur dirty promises into her skin, telling her how hard he's going to fuck her.

"Not if you can't stop fingering me," she gasps, laughing, and he bites her shoulder.

"You've got four in you, Clarke. Maybe five. Don't worry."

"Bell--" she starts, but he crooks his fingers up, goes faster, and whatever she was going to say is lost as the second orgasm crashes over her, and he smirks.

"You were saying?"

It takes her a minute. "What about you?"

"Like I said, I'm going to fuck you. That's going to be four. And hopefully five."

"That's a lot more than I usually--" He starts to stroke her again, slow, and she whimpers and buries her face against his neck. "You know what, I'm just going to let you do whatever you want."

"Good," he says. "I've got you, Clarke."

"I know."

He makes her come one more time with his fingers and then settles her on her back. He's painfully hard, but he kind of likes that, the anticipation, the knowledge of how good it's going to feel when he finally does get off. 

They kiss for a while first, and he plays with her breasts, and when she's just starting to writhe again, he slides inside her in one smooth thrust.

For a second, the only sound is both of them breathing, adjusting to the new sensation, but then she rolls her hips, testing how it feels, and that's it, all he needs. He already has a sense of how she likes it, fast and hard, and he dreamed about this more than once, but it was never so good, never even _close_.

She does come twice, once before he does and once on the tail end of his own orgasm, and he'd brag about it, if he wasn't so breathless and satisfied.

She saves him the trouble, curling up against his side after he rolls off her, and nosing her neck. "You did get five."

"Well, you haven't gotten laid in six years," he manages. "Thought it should be good."

"My hero." She settles her open palm over his heart. "Welcome back, Bellamy."

He has to laugh. "Yeah. Thanks."

*

Clarke wakes up first in the morning, presses a kiss to his shoulder and says, "I should have made you get dressed."

He tugs her down for a real kiss, just to remind himself she's still real. She _feels_ real. She feels perfect.

"Why?" he asks, sliding his hand up her bare back, and she laughs and rolls away, throwing his shirt back at him.

"Because Madi is asleep in the rover and I don't really want this to be her first encounter with a naked guy."

He tugs on the shirt and finds her underwear looking for his. Between the two of them, they manage to get dressed pretty quickly, and he pulls her back for another kiss once that's done.

"Have you thought a lot about what you want from her first encounter with a naked guy? Because that would be weird."

"Shut up." Her expression sobers. "I think we maybe--I don't know if we should tell her yet."

"I think she's going to notice," he says. "It's pretty obvious."

"She knows I love you," Clarke says, easy, and his heart contracts a little. "I don't think she has to know exactly what that means."

"What does it mean?" he asks, and it's her turn to look down, flushing. He slides his fingers under her chin, smiles. "I love you," he says, since she's already said it first. Essentially "I'm never losing you again. That's what it means to me."

"Yeah," she says, smiling herself. "Me too. And Madi already knows that."

"Yeah?"

"I called you every day. She noticed. And you're in all my favorite stories. If you came back and _didn't_ move in, she'd probably be furious. But--she's still going to need some time, I think."

"I can do time." She raises her eyebrows, and he grins. "I already got laid, so--"

She shoves him away, laughing. "I'm going to take her to check the traps. You should go check on the ship."

"Okay." He leans in for one more kiss. "Meet us over there for breakfast?"

"I know you guys don't have any of your own food, yeah." She pauses, eyes roving over his face, and then she adds, "I love you too. Just so you--"

He was wrong; this is the last kiss. "Go get Madi," he tells her. "I know."

*

They spend the next two days working on the excavation of the bunker. They don't have enough equipment for everyone, but Raven can't work with her leg and Monty can't with his hands, so they watch Madi while everyone else helps with the excavation.

Once the door is clear, there's the new issue of how to get it open, and he, Clarke, Raven, and Harry and Celine from the mining ship are discussing it when Monty says, "Hey, I think they've got it."

They all turn as one to the door, which is groaning open, painfully slowly.

That means there's someone alive down there. Someone who saw the door open. Someone who knows it's safe to come out.

It takes him a second to recognize his sister, longer than it took him to recognize Clarke. The tattoos on her face distort her features, and she's thin too, tired.

But-- _alive_.

She's staring at him too, and Clarke gives him a gentle shove at the same moment she says, "Bell?" and he takes off running.

He twirls her around like a little girl, like she weighs nothing, and she clings back.

"You made it," she says. 

"We made it."

He puts her down so she can look around, and she frowns. "Holy shit, did you and Clarke have a _kid_?"

"No!" he says. "Fuck, O, it's only been six years. How old do you think she is?"

"I don't know, I can't see her! Who is she?"

"Clarke found her."

She does not look impressed. "You found a kid and brought her to space with you?"

He swallows; it feels like this conversation is going to suck every time, but ideally he won't have to have it that often. "Clarke didn't make it to space. The nightblood kept her alive down here. Her and the kid. They made it."

Octavia looks him up and down. "We've got a lot to talk about, huh?"

"Not that much," he admits. "I was in space for six years. Clarke was here. We all survived. So--that's something, right?"

"That's something." She worries her lip, hugs him again. "I'm so glad to see you, Bell."

"You too. I'm so proud of you, O. You did it."

"I didn't do that much," she says, but there's something in her voice, her smile, that makes him sure she knows. 

She's a leader now, and he is proud, but--it's scary, too. Seeing Clarke after six years felt like coming home; seeing Octavia feels like something new. She's still his sister, but she's not _just_ his sister anymore.

But she's here; everything else will work itself out, sooner or later.

"Sure you didn't," he says, and slings his arm around her. "Come say hi."

*

It's a very long day, in the best way. They have so many people to see, so many things to think about. It's easy to think of all the people who aren't here, the ones who never made it to the bunker, but he has more blessings to count than not.

It's not until evening that anxiety sets in, when Madi wilts onto his shoulder and asks, "Are we going home soon?"

It's a great question that he hadn't really thought about. Clarke is talking to her mother and Octavia, Monty and Raven and Harper are playing some sort of drinking game with Miller, Echo is catching up with some of the Azgeda, and Emori and Murphy wandered off hours ago. 

They could stay here, easily. They'd be welcomed. But all he really wants to do is go home, tell Madi a story, and fall asleep with her and Clarke. She prefers now when they sleep in the rover with her, so she knows where they are, and Bellamy has to admit he likes it. At some point, he's going to start missing sex, but he's pretty sure they'll figure out how to make that happen. Other people watch her sometimes. For now, he's just glad to be close to both of them, to know they're safe.

Miller made fun of him for having adopted Clarke's daughter in two days flat, but he doesn't think anyone is actually surprised. He thinks she's less sure about him, still largely putting up with his being around all the time because she recognizes that Clarke loves him, but he can live with that. And she's overwhelmed enough by all the new people that she considers hiding behind him to be a vast improvement over interacting with anyone else, which he's taking as a good sign.

So he wraps his arm around her and gives her a squeeze. "Did you ask Clarke?"

"She's busy," says Madi. "I don't wanna bother her."

"Do you want me to bother her?"

"You _know them_ ," she says. "So it's easier for you to bother them."

"Yeah, you're right." He catches Raven's eye and nods his head to Madi and then to Clarke, and Raven nods. "Raven knows them too. She can check."

She squints at him. "How do you do that?"

"What?"

"How does she know what you want?"

"We were stuck in space together for six years. We got pretty good at nonverbal communication."

"What's it like? Space."

"Clarke never told you?"

"A little. She said it was really different."

"It is," he says, and takes a second to really think about the question. "Space was never very good for me." He smiles a little. "Which, uh--I don't know, it's not like Earth has ever been great for me either. But--people weren't supposed to have more than one kid up there. Did she tell you that?"

"Yeah. You had to hide your sister."

"Yeah. And that was really hard. And when they found her, that was worse. When I was down here--I haven't done everything right. I would change a lot of things. But it's still better than space. And being up there again--that was the worst. I hated it."

"Did you really think Clarke was dead?"

"I hoped she wasn't," he admits. "I hoped the nightblood worked and she was okay. But--yeah. I didn't really think she made it."

"Did you miss her?"

"Every day."

She settles in closer. "I'm glad you came back. She missed you too."

By the time Clarke manages to extricate herself from whatever Octavia and Abby wanted, Madi is half asleep on Bellamy's shoulder, drooling a little.

"Sorry," says Clarke, leaning on his other side. "My mom really thinks we should stay here."

"You don't want to?" he asks.

"Do you?"

"I asked you first," he counters, and she laughs, soft, and snuggles closer.

"I'm not used to a lot of people yet. I just want to go back to the rover with you guys."

"You know I don't actually support us living in your car for the rest of your life, right? And we need somewhere for Raven and Monty and--"

"Bellamy," she says, all fond amusement. "I'm not talking about forever. _Tonight_ , do you want to be here or go back to my car?"

"Your car," he says, instantly. 

"That's what I thought. Can you carry her?"

"Yeah, no problem. Can you get everyone else?"

"You don't think they want to stay?" When he just rolls his eyes, she grins. "Yeah, I'll get them."

Madi stirs a little as he hoists her onto his back. "Time to go home?" she asks.

Less than a week ago, he was on the Ark, wondering if they even wanted to try to survive up there, or if they'd be happier letting their small corner of humanity die out. He was sure Clarke was dead, and for all he knew, Octavia was too. He certainly hadn't thought he'd ever see either of them again.

And now here is, back on Earth, breathing fresh air, watching his sister talk to Indra, waiting for Clarke to get collect their friends. He has a girl who's already halfway to being his daughter on his back, and he gets to tell her a bedtime story and fall asleep with the woman he loves in his arms.

"Yeah," he tells Madi, hiking her up on his back. "Time to go home."


End file.
